


Pretty Pink Ribbon

by 7iris



Category: Mindless Self Indulgence, My Chemical Romance
Genre: F/M, Pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-05
Updated: 2008-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-17 00:39:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/171028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7iris/pseuds/7iris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pegging.  PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Pink Ribbon

Gerard licks his lips and looks up at her, kneeling between her legs. "Tell me one of your fantasies. Tell me what you wish we were doing right now."

Right now, Lindsey is actually totally fine with oral sex in the back of the bus, but if he wants dirty talk, too, well, she can accommodate him.

He makes little humming noises of agreement or encouragement against her clit as she talks, and she tugs on his hair harder than she intends. She loves his mouth, and his hands, his singer's tongue and his artist's fingers.

When she starts stumbling over her words, he rests his head on her thigh, cheeks flushed and mouth shining. "I would," he says, "We could do that," and rubs his thumb over her clit. She comes hard, bucking up against his hand, hissing out his name.

She pulls him up and kisses him, licking the taste of herself off his lips and tongue. She gets her hand around his cock, and she's vaguely planning to go down on him once she can, you know, move again, but he comes after a few rough strokes, gasping into her mouth and spilling over her hand.

They rearrange themselves on the couch, curled up around each other, and Gerard asks, "Is your band going to need the back lounge any time soon?"

"Eh, fuck 'em," she says sleepily. "They know what a locked door means."

He snorts against her neck, and then says, careful and almost tentative. "I would, you know. I'd let you do that."

"Let me?"

"Want you to." His voice is lower, more certain. "Fucking hot, I want you to."

She laces their fingers together and thinks about it. "Yeah, okay."

 ****

::

In three days they'll have a hotel room. She has more than enough condoms, but she has to send a runner out for lube.

It's not with the rest of the stuff she asked for when they get back to the bus.

Jimmy slides the bottle over from his pile. "Apparently there's some confusion over who in this band needs the economy-sized bottle of lube."

She laughs, and snags it, and Jimmy watches her with a considering expression.

"What?" she says.

"If he doesn't treat you right, princess, you can use up the rest of that bottle with me." He gives her an exaggerated leer, and she kicks his ankle under the table, smiling back at him.

"What, you're not going to offer to smack him around?"

He widens his eyes. "No, are you kidding—his band could kick my ass!"

On his way back to the bunks, he squeezes her shoulder, and says, "Our band could totally take his band, though."

She believes him.

 ****

::

In the confusion of unloading the buses, Kitty sidles up to Gerard and sticks her copy of the room key in his back pocket. She flashes Lindsey a smirk over his shoulder, but by the time he turns around with an alarmed look she's already running off, yelling at Steve.

Lindsey leans in close to Gerard. "Take a shower first, okay?"

He looks back at her. "Okay," he says, and she decides to believe his voice is a little breathless.

The shower is almost better than sex. Almost.

She finally makes herself get out and towel off. The strap-on and the harness are sitting next to the sink. She didn't have to send a runner out for those.

It's not like she gets to use it that often when they're on tour, but it's kind of a good luck charm and an inside joke for the band. If they're on the road, it's in her suitcase.

She's buckling the last of the straps when Gerard lets himself in.

"I'll be out in a minute," she calls, and he says something back.

She looks at herself in the mirror. Her stage make-up kit is next to the sink, too.

The thing is, she's been doing this, being Lyn-Z, for a long time now. She knows all about the scene's charming virgin/whore dichotomy, and how the people who say they'll let her are sometimes worse in the long run than the ones who say _no_ upfront.

But it's Gerard. Who is sweet and respectful to his female fans, who listens to her when they talk about art or music or comic books. Who gives really enthusiastic head. It's not the best she's ever had, but it's the most sincere, and she thinks that has to mean something.

In the end she just pulls her wet hair back into pigtails and leaves the make-up on the counter.

She's pretty sure she's most of the way in love with him already, which is why the only thing running through her head when she steps out of the bathroom is _Gerard, don't fuck this up._

The thought is probably visible in her body when she stops and gives him a hip-shot pose.

His breath comes in sharply and his eyes go wide, but in the good way, she can tell, and the knot in her belly loosens up into something soft and warm.

He's sitting on the edge of the bed, frozen in the middle of taking off his shoes. She walks towards him, slow and easy, putting a little extra swing into her hips, and his eyes flick from the strap-on to her breasts to her face and back again.

They're on her face when she finally stops in front of him. She kneels on the bed, straddling his thighs, and he gives her this smile, happy and a little surprised, and it makes her lean in and brush her mouth over his. He holds onto her hips and they exchange fleeting kisses that slide into something deeper, hotter.

His hair is soft and still damp, and he smells like the hotel soap when she licks at the side of his neck. He cups her breasts and she leans into the heat of his hands. She pushes his shirt up, running her hands over his skin, and he breaks the kiss to pull the shirt off completely. She undoes his jeans and slips off his lap to pull his pants and his boxers off. He lifts his hips up to help her, and when she stands up again, he reaches out to run his fingers over the straps of the harness.

The harness is black leather and the strap-on is day-glo pink, and sometimes she thinks the whole thing is a little ridiculous. Gerard strokes her fake cock, and she can feel a faint echo of his touch on her clit, and right now is not one of those times.

"That's fucking hot," he says, looking up at her, and she grins back at him.

He moves back on the bed, so he's leaning up against the headboard. She reaches for the lube on the nightstand, but he holds out his hand.

"You said you wanted to see me get myself ready for you."

She inhales. He really had been listening. "Be my guest," she says, low and smooth, and gives him the bottle.

He pours the lube over his fingers and settles back, legs sprawled apart. He keeps his eyes on hers as he slides one finger inside himself, gives himself a few strokes. He adds more lube and a second finger, and his eyes flutter shut. He bites his lip and looks up at her through his lashes, almost coy.

She can tell he's playing it up for her a little, a flash of stage-Gerard, but she doesn't care. He's good at it, it's amazingly hot, and she can tell that hitch in his breath is not for show. She's getting wetter just watching him, and she grips the base of the strap-on, rolling her hips up for the pressure.

"Fuck, Gerard..."

"Yeah," he says roughly, "yeah, that would be good."

She fumbles a little putting on the condom. Gerard's already on his hands and knees. She runs one hand over the pale curve of his ass, slides two fingers inside him.

She hesitates for a second, then nudges his hip. "Could you—I want to see your face."

He glances back at her over his shoulder, but goes easily, rolling onto his back and spreading his legs. She leans in and kisses him, the strap-on dragging against his cock in the press and slide of their bodies, then pulls back.

She slicks herself up and settles the head of the dildo against his ass. She holds onto the base to line it up and guide it in, slow and steady. She's watching Gerard's expression, but her eyes keep dropping to the way the strap-on is disappearing into his body.

"Yeah?" she asks.

"Yeah," he says breathlessly. "Really, yes."

When it's completely inside him, she braces her hands on either side of his head, and says, conversationally, "So, you know, it's not like I'm planning to swap out my pussy or anything, it's just, some days, I really want to fuck someone." She pushes her hips forward that extra inch just to hear the breathy little noise he makes.

He opens his eyes and says, "So, come on, fucking do it."

She laughs.

She fucks him slowly, until they find the angle that makes his mouth drop open and his hand clench on her back, and then she doesn't bother with slow at all. She really loves this harness; she can feel every stroke on her clit, not intense, but a slow, warm build of something wrapping up her spine, like she could do this forever, watching him come apart underneath her.

She kisses his mouth and bites the curve of his throat. He's got one hand on his cock, stroking himself in time with the snap of her hips. His face is flushed and soft and open, and she can't look away from him. He hooks one leg behind her thighs, pulling her in closer.

"C'mon," she says, "c'mon, I want to see..."

He comes with a shuddery, inarticulate sound, and she stops moving, scrabbling to get a hand beneath the straps of the harness so she can slide two fingers inside herself, slick as water, and grind down hard against the strap-on.

Just like that she's coming, too, collapsing down on top of him.

"Christ, Way, marry me," she says against his shoulder.

"Yes, fuck," he says, petting her back weakly.

After a minute, she pulls out carefully, and takes the harness off. She drops it off the side of the bed and flops down next to him.

He rolls over and presses his face into the side of her neck.

"I would, you know," he says, muffled against her skin, and she goes still. "I want to."

She laces their fingers together, and doesn't have to think about it. "Yeah, okay."


End file.
